Traditions aren’t always loud or elaborate. Sometimes they begin quietly and grow year by year. Maybe it’s a favorite dish passed down through generations, the way everyone joins hands before a meal to pray, or how someone always sneaks a bite of dessert before dinner (every family has that person). These steady little rituals give us roots. They remind us not just of where we come from—but who we belong to.

Temptation doesn’t always show up wearing red horns and carrying a pitchfork. Sometimes it’s dressed in a perfectly reasonable excuse, a harmless little “just this once,” or even a shiny opportunity that looks too good to be true (because… it is). The enemy is sneaky like that — he custom-tailors temptation so it fits just right for you.

I’ve always loved old things — an heirloom quilt, a weathered farmhouse table, a recipe scribbled in a grandmother’s handwriting. There’s something about going back to the original that feels truer, richer, and more satisfying. You get the whole story — not just the bits and pieces. The Church is a lot like that. If we look closely at history, we can trace the Christian faith all the way back to one small, powerful moment: the morning the tomb was empty. Jesus had risen, and

Let’s be honest—closets can get overwhelming. All the colors, the trends, the "I might wear this someday" items... and yet most of us end up wearing the same handful of things over and over again. And you know what? That’s not a bad thing. In fact, I think it’s beautiful. I've been leaning into a slower, gentler approach to getting dressed—one rooted in comfort, simplicity, and ease. The kind of closet where everything goes together, everything feels like you.